


You Were Always Mine

by locknkey



Category: American Idol RPF, S - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/locknkey/pseuds/locknkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archie can't wait anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Always Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Warnings: animal traits, AU, Archie is 17  
> Author's Notes: Written for by her request. And because I love her like crazy and it's her birthday!!! Unbeta'd. If you see spelling or grammar errors, please let me know. This fic is AU - set in my Animus verse (A world where there have always been Animus (human mutants with animal characteristics - knotting has enabled me), those without the genetic mutation, after years of battle and negotiation, have finally learned to live peaceably with the Animus. The Animus/Weres have their own lands, but some of them choose to use suppressants and live outside their tribe – among humans. Occasionally a non-mutant couple will produce a mutant child and vice versa. Typically mutant must have gone through at least one heat before being able to sense their true mate. In a world of billions true mate pairings are very rare.) This story is set inside a larger one based on this premise, but stands alone: Archie is born human to a cloistered pack of cat-mutants, but his parents go to great lengths to cover it up and believe the boy's only value is his amazing voice. It should be impossible for Archie to mate, but when Cook meets him, he immediately knows the truth. Archie is his mate no matter his origins or DNA.

Cook scrubs the towel across his head, a quick dry and he struggles into a shirt as he pads across the floor. He tugs at his sleep pants where they're slipping down and frowns at he door, where the low but insistent knocking shouldn't be. He's tired damn it. Between rehearsals, photo shoots and the Ford commercial all he wants is to slip between the sheets and enjoy his six hours of sleep.

Cook sings the door open, angry words on his lips, “Jesus Christ, keep your panties – ” The words die in his throat.

Archie. Last damn place the kid's supposed to be, arms tight around hi torso, eyes wide and pleading. Cook doesn't think, just grabs Archie's wrist and pulls him into the room and shuts the door with a quiet click. No need to draw attention.

That's when it hits him – Archie's scent – soap and shampoo and that distinct mix salt and pine and spice that had screamed _mate_ from the moment Cook set eyes on the kid. David's blood is swimming with ramped hormones, the scent intoxicating him and he's leaning in, going to run his nose right up Archie's neck, when the gasp stops him.

Cook pulls back, expects fear, but all he sees is arousal, pupils dilated until the brown is almost swallowed and Archie's pulse is pounding into his palm. David looks at his hand shackled to Archie's wrist, bruise tight and possession trills through him; it will leave a mark, his mark, finally.

Cook shakes his head forces his hand open and moves across the room to the opposite wall. He leans back, arms crossed, foot propped to the wall and does his best to look unaffected. He shouldn't feel this away about a damn kid and Archie is a kid, seventeen in years, but not close to that in life experience, all sheltered and untouched. And just that thought has Cook's cock twitching, because if he's totally honest every Alpha cell in his body wants to be the only one to ever strip away that innocence.

“You shouldn't be here.” Cooks says, groaning inwardly, as the words come out guttural and breathy. _Nice, David, very forceful._ Why he didn't slam the door in the kid's face from the beginning, yeah, okay, he's not that much in denial. He's gone six ways from Sunday over sweet dimples and boyish charm and can't give a flying fuck if the rest of the world and most of his family thinks it's the cutest thing ever. His resistance is nil.

Archie shoots him that little lopsided grin, which looks like compliance, but Cook has learned really means Archie is going to ignore you and do whatever he wants. Archie walks across the room, stalking really, and Cook's were rises in challenge fur rolling thick against his throat. Cook swallows, presses himself to the wall and uses every bit of human will not to meet the kid halfway and roll him to the ground.

Archie doesn't break eye contact or stop until he's inches from Cook, toes bumping, making skin contact. He's looking at their feet, but his eyes move up Cook's body and meet his gaze from under his lashes, eyes hooded and full of invitation.

Okay, so that's new. And, _fuck_ David's body is on board with the shy seduction, skin humming, cock throbbing and every were-panther cell in his body screaming, _mine_.

“I – ” Archie's pink tongue teases across his lips, uncertainty trembling in his voice. All Cook can think about is how much he wants to taste. He's never even kissed him, in spite of negotiating a contract to mate. Archie's fingers slip under Cook's shirt, graze over skin, pebbling flesh and Cook can't hold back the groan. “I want you to take me, mate with me.” Archie's expression is a mix of lust and certainty and trust that pierces straight into Cook's most primal receptors.

The animal rises in Cook, muscle and power rising under his skin and he's at war with himself, control slipping, anger winning and he's got Archie flipped and pinned to the wall so fast, it knocks Archie's breath out is a whoosh and _take, take, take_ bass-chants in every one of Cook's cells.

“This what you want, Archie? Want me to press you to the wall and fuck you?”

Archie tips his head and bares his neck in an arch, signal to Cook's were of complete surrender. “yes.” drifts into the room, laden in rough vowels, but still sure.

It's far hotter than it should be to Cook's human side and he rolls his hips against Archie's ass, winds their fingers together and presses Archie's hands to the wall. Counter to his body he says, “We agreed to wait. Told everyone we'd wait until after Idol, wait until the contracts are signed by our packs.” David Doesn't know if he's trying to convince Archie or himself.

Archie's head falls against his shoulder and he wiggles his backside. David nips his earlobe in retaliation and loves the little yip Archie makes, wants to hear what other sounds he can drive from his mate. Little wet pants are falling from Archie's lips and he takes a deep breath, struggles to force out words. “I – I don't want to wait. Don't want our first time to be when I go into heat.” The way Archie is writhing against him, Cook could almost believe he's in heat now, but the scent isn't strong enough for that, just strong enough to dull his reason. “Besides. You claim me and my dad won't have any choice but to sign. You know if he can, he'll find a way out of the contract whether we're mates or not.”

Cook can't believe how hot the panted words are, sexier than skin, Archie's arousal clamoring through every syllable, begging Cook to do anything he wants. Through the haze of _want, take, mine_ the actual words start to process. David makes his voice as soothing as possible. Archie is human and while his body's on board, the whole idea of mating has got to be at best scary and most likely terrifying. Especially the way Archie's clan handles it. Rather than treating it as something natural, welcome, they've shrouded it in mystery and religion and duty. And, Archie isn't even Were. Technically, he can't be Cook's mate, but after Cook first made the claim, the doctor's confirmed it with a simple blood test. “We don't even know if you'll go into heat.” _Human._ that should bother Cook. It worries his family. Even raised clan – batshit thought they are – Cook's family is worried that Archie will never give him children, won't be able to meet his needs, but they also see how gone David is on Archie and Cook's family have been the only people to step up and support their union.

Moans wind their way into Cook's thoughts and he's drawn back to the moment, realizes he's given in to the urge to scent his mate, nose working up the back of his neck, tongue tipping to the drops of sweat inching from Archie's hair line. He nuzzles along the beck of Archie's neck and the kid drops his head forward, rolls against David's erection and _damn – kid's going to kill him_. Archie's naturally sensual and it's more blazing than any planned seduction.

Cook's mind is spinning. Archie isn't dumb and his plan is a good one. If Cook stakes a claim, Jeff won't have a hope in hell of derailing the contract, but they also promised not to mate. Maybe, maybe, there’s a middle ground.

“Please. I need to know I'm yours. I need everyone else to know it too.” It's whimpered with need and Cook let's go of his last resistance.

He flattens his tongue and licks up the side of Archie's neck, sucks the tender spot behind his ear. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

Archie makes a noise, some wordless sound bathed in need and Cook flips him around, grabs his belt loops and locks their hips together. They both groan, hard cocks flush against each other, hips in motion. David takes deep breaths, reminds himself to use some restraint. Archie is a never-been-kissed virgin – admitted in a late night jam session – and Cook has always liked getting there as much as the orgasm. He wants to teach Archie all the things, every way his skin can shiver, muscles roll, brain ignite, wants to make it so good Archie will never regret taking him for a mate.

Cook pushes Archie away to a protested groan and backs them toward the bed. “Gonna mark you all up, Archie, bruise and blush all that smooth skin, make you black and blue where everyone can see – your dad, the judges, the entire fucking world will know.” He moves them back, step by slow step. “Your gonna feels so good, blow your load and I'm gonna lick it all off and we'll reek of each other. Every Animus from production to the the back of the auditorium will smell us on each other.”

Archie's eyes are round and wide when his legs hit the bed. David thinks maybe he's gone too far, scared the kid, but then, Archie pushes one hand under his shirt and grazes Cook's cheek with the other and the smallest note vibrates on repeat, too small for human ears, but not Cook's. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Archie doesn't stop saying it until Cook swallows the word with his lips. The lightest press, testing, and Archie clutches at him, hands in his hair, the one under his shirt wrapping into cloth and pulling, needy noises coming from his mouth. David grabs Archie's ass and lifts and legs go around him as he tosses them both to the bed.

Archie laughs and David smiles down at him, helpless not to, never wants to stop feeling this giddy head-rushing combination of possessive joy and burning need. Cook dives in for another kiss and Archie rises to meet it. David licks over Archie's bottom lip. “Open your mouth, Archie.”

Archie does and Cook teases along his teeth and tips their tongues together, swirls and sucks, encourages and teaches until Archie is moaning and thrusting back into his mouth. Cook kisses the corner of his mouth and tease down his neck with his beard, leaving pink behind, then does it all again with his teeth, sucking the promised bruises down his mate's neck.

Little whispers drop from Archie's mouth, “Oh, gosh, gee, David,” squeaked out in surprise and arousal and if you'd asked Cook if _gee_ and _gosh_ could have ever sound like dirty talk, he would have laughed at you. But, yanked from Archie, as Cook teethes and sucks at his neck, body curved into the touch, hands clutching at skin, it's the dirtiest, hottest thing Cook's ever heard. He grinds into Archie and his legs spread wider, then move up to wrap octopus tight around David's hips, heels digging into Cook's thighs.

Cook pulls back, observes the whisker burn and teeth indents against Archie's neck. On cue, a blush rises upward, painting throat and cheeks and, _fuck_ how cute and debauched can work so well together Cook will never know, doesn't care, just wants to eat Archie alive.

Archie blinks, dazed, eyes lust-coated and David waits a few seconds before asking, “Want to touch you. Can I touch you, baby?” He drops his hand to Archie's waist so his meaning is clear.

Archie nods, frantic. “Anything.”

David groans and drops his head, nips along the curve of Archie's ear, “You drive me crazy. All mine” he doesn't wait for a response, but slips down between Archie’s spread legs and lifts his shirt. He drops kisses across the skin above Archie's waistband and muscles contract, spasm under his fingers.

Cook shifts to the side so he can unsnap and and unzip Archie's jeans. _God,_ the kids hipbones stand out in sharp relief against creamy skin and a light smattering of hair trails down to where Cook wants to be, touch, own more than anything. He nuzzles across the hair, scenting his mate, learning the deeper, intoxicating smell of arousal. Archie's dick is stiff and digging into his cheek through his boxers and his hips jump. Cook's never wanted a cock in his mouth so much and he's salivating at the thought, but he centers himself, pushes down his animal and remembers to take one thing at a time.

Cook leans back on one elbow and skims his hand across Archie's hard-on. Archie pushes into the touch, begging with his body. His eyelashes flutter to his cheeks and he looks so beautiful like this, David would like to hold him on the edge forever. But Archie's hand winds into the fabric of his tee and the other scrabbles at the comforter and he pleads. “Please, I need – ”

David pulls down the boxers and Archie's cock is just as pretty as the rest of him, thick and dark pink, vein throbbing along the back, curving to the right. Cook wraps his hand around it tight and at the base and pulls up the length. Watching the head pop through the ring of his fingers as Archie wails and writhes. “Shhh – I got you.” David doesn't care if the whole damn hotel hears them – in fact, his panther thinks it's a fine idea, but he suspects Archie might be embarrassed once the lust haze wears off.

David smears his thumb across the head and rubs the nerves at the back of the crown. He strokes down again and Archie is a panting mess, close. David can smell it on him, pheromones bleeding through his skin. More of those sweet, innocent, untutored syllables fall from Archie's mouth in a slur as he fucks into David's hand. He strokes back up shiny, sticky pre-come slicking the way and digs his thumb into the slit. That's all it takes and Archie's coming, pearl strands roping across his belly, an extended, “Ooooh,” keening from his mouth. Cook strokes him through the aftershocks, sliding his hand into the mess, rubbing it into skin.

Archie takes a handful of stuttered breaths and grabs Cook's wrist. He pulls the hand t to his mouth and licks from the base of his palm to his fingertips. It's Cook's turn to tremble as Archie sucks two fingers into his mouth and licks between them until they're clean.

Cook presses his mouth to the corner of Archie's, flicks his tongue against his own fingers and whispers, “That is so fucking hot.”

Archie blushes and pleased heat runs through Cook. He's delighted that Archie seems to be into this, licking and sucking his fingers clean. Nearly all Animus enjoy come play, but Cook wasn't sure his human would share the kink. He shifts against Archie's hips, mind filled with images of Archie covered in his come, licking it off, sharing it spit-slicked between them. He moans into Archie's collarbone, pulling and worrying skin with his teeth and then laving over the marks with his tongue.

“What about you?” Archie makes a vague gesture in the direction of David's crotch, blushing and eyelashes dropping and so fucking cute that David wants to squish him all up and never let him go.

Cook pulls him in close, mouths against the shell of his ear and loves the supple way Archie shudders and arches into it. “Uh-uh, don't worry about me. First time I come, it's gonna be inside you. Mark you all up and every Animus within yards will know without doubt who you belong to, be able to smell me all over you, dripping from you. Mine.”

Archie moans and pulls him down, one leg wrapping around his hips, tongue slipping into Cook's mouth, slow swipe and David can feel the grin against his mouth that's plastered to Archie's face. Archie pulls back, eyes bright and rolls them over, straddling Cook's hips. A giggle drops from Archie's mouth. Looking up at all that shining joy, David can't imagine loving this kid anymore.


End file.
